


Halfway to Martyrdom

by PierceTheVeils



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Among Us parallels, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle, Post-Book: Star Wars: Thrawn Series: Treason, Post-Star Wars: Rebels, Purrgils (Star Wars), Space Battles, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PierceTheVeils/pseuds/PierceTheVeils
Summary: Everything was supposed to end when Ezra removed the Seventh Fleet from Lothal. Instead, that's where it all began.IE: Itry towrite a Rebels sequel before canon beats me to it.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

Traveling in hyperspace felt different when purrgil led the way. Ezra guessed he should have expected it to, but the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now.

Ezra’s first time in hyperspace had been on the  _ Ghost _ . Back then, the blue lines stretching across his vision had been straight, consistent. Hera had told him that nav computers were programmed to plot jumps in as straight a shot as possible given the ever-changing nature of the galaxy. If their route curved at all, it did so gradually enough to go unnoticed to occupants of a ship.

Purrgil didn’t navigate the way computers did. They had no problems rounding sharp corners or seemingly doubling back on their path. Ezra sensed their intent through the Force, but that didn’t mean he could make  _ sense _ of it. 

Before, it was easier. He’d felt their collective hunger as several latched onto the  _ Chimaera’s  _ hyperdrive. Once they’d eaten their fill of its fuel, Ezra had asked them to guide all Imperial ships away from his home (“my nest”, he’d called it). The flock agreed. 

One problem: Ezra had made no suggestions regarding a destination. He had no idea where the purrgil were taking this ship or any others, for that matter. At points in their travel, he thought they may not either. He didn’t see a destination in their mind, only a vague intention to remove the “hunters” (Imperial ships) from the flock’s migration path. 

The trip passed slowly at the speed of light. Everything moved in suspended animation. Ezra could feel Imperials panicking through the Force, but few of them dared move during the journey. Any who tried got jerked around by the purrgil. It didn’t help that no one knew when they would exit hyperspace. Until the ship returned to realspace, most counter attacks were impossible. The rest were just wasteful and generally bad ideas.

In that moment, Ezra wasn’t as concerned about the enemy crew as he was the purrgil. The one who’d knocked Thrawn unconscious acted ridiculously vague when answering Ezra’s questions. Ezra couldn’t use language with a purrgil, so he let his confusion and anxiety about their destination pass in its most instinctual form from his mind into the creature’s. “ _ Where are we going, where are we going, where are we going, where….” _

All the purrgil offered him in response was quick dismissal of his concerns. She was trying to concentrate. Could the small being please let her fly in peace?

Ezra felt his own panic rising to match the rest of the ship. He’d done it. He’d sacrificed himself to save Lothal.

But didn’t a rebel’s sacrifice involve death? Should Ezra be dead by now? Was he about to die? This moment could be his last. 

Or this one. 

Or maybe this- what about this one? 

...No? Okay.

Now Ezra wished Thrawn was awake. If he had someone to fight, some goal to focus on while the purrgil flew, he would feel a lot better. He fiddled with the blast door, working out a plan to open it once the battle resumed.

After an eternity of jagged blue lines, the purrgil stopped in the middle of a congested asteroid field. Just like that, the Force lifted its finger from the battle’s pause button. 

A cold female voice sounded in time with numerous alarms. “Commodore Hammerly to all crew: cannons, continue fire. Fighters, launch and lure the purrgil away from the ship. Kill them if you can, make them flee if you must. All ship mechanics and engine room techs, report to proper channels to confirm your status. Evacuate all damaged areas of the ship. Stay in contact with your commanders. Rescue anyone you can, yourself included.”

The already damaged ship floated into asteroid after asteroid, some large enough to make the ship shudder. A field this congested would have been trouble for the  _ Ghost _ to navigate, but at least that ship could fly in a place like this. There was nowhere for a Star Destroyer to go in here. How the purrgil even got the ship into this squeeze would forever remain a mystery.

Ezra felt his awe travel across the mental bond he’d formed with the purrgil nearest him. She responded with a smug sense of satisfaction. Pleased with her work, she released Thrawn from her embrace, tossing his limp body across the room where it caught behind a sturdy piece of debris. 

_ Thank you. You saved my nest. _

The purrgil blinked, giant eye devoid of emotion. Ezra smiled until she pulled away from her place on the ship, opening the room Ezra occupied to the vacuum of space. 

_ No… wait, no! _

She couldn’t leave. There were still thousands of Imperials alive on this ship! Ezra freaked out as the purrgil’s absence vented him out into space. He panicked with the Force, pulling himself back towards the door without thinking. He pried the blast doors open, sending himself, Thrawn, debris, and bits of corpses inside with one giant push that left Ezra winded.

He didn’t need to push so hard. He was wasting energy. There was still so much to do, so many Imperials running in every direction. Ezra felt individual footpaths traversing the pathways of his mind, boots pounding a headache as the shrill of alarms continued.

From there, he reached back out to the purrgil, begging them not to flee just yet. Ezra was ready to die for the rebellion, but he wasn’t ready to live. Not on a ship full of enemies with nothing left to lose. Not among people who’d lost all hope and whose only substitute was rage.

He needed the purrgil to stay. He broadcast every fear, every bit of pleading and hope through the Force. He presented himself to them as a lonely calf, one trapped in a hunter’s claws. Ezra did everything he could to show them how desperate he was for them to continue their prior assault.

Most ignored him. They’d had members of their pod shot by enough TIE fighters to know how many blows a purrgil could take. They’d helped a friend in need and gotten a meal out of it, too. The purrgil’s work was done. They swam out to the space beyond the asteroid field, taking off one by one into the oblivion.

The only purrgil who listened to Ezra’s pleas was the smallest of the pod. As the runt of his group, he knew how it felt to be lonely. He did his part to wreak more havoc on the ship, dodging cannonfire and TIE attacks as he worked.

Ezra had no viewport in his hallway, but he watched through the Force and helped where he could. Exhaustion rapidly took over as he caught sight of threats too late. Despite Ezra’s faltering, the purrgil still looked to his bond for guidance. 

_ Thank you for staying. I’ll let you go soon.  _ Ezra tried to show a mental image of him dying with the last of the ship. The picture had seemed so clear when he’d stood above Lothal. Why was it blurry now?

The last purrgil’s size proved an advantage. He was big enough to whack through the wings of a TIE, but small enough to hide from cannonfire behind asteroids. Ezra felt as if he were riding atop the purrgil, constantly turning around in search of threats. 

The Imperials knew only one purrgil was left. They were concentrating all their anger and firepower onto one small male. Ezra could relate.

_ Crunch! _

Ezra lost his footing as the  _ Chimaera _ collided with yet another asteroid. He tumbled to the ground, his bond to the purrgil fumbling in the confusion. His disorientation traveled across the bond, causing the space creature to pause its assault.

_ No! Don’t stop for me. Don’t listen! You need to- _

A lucky gunner landed a cannon blast square in the purrgil’s chest, sending one end of the bond shriveling towards the other. In the span of a split second, Ezra was shouting to himself.

“Uh!” a squeak escaped his lips. Ezra sank into the ground, his will to rise fading.

Ezra knew better than to stay connected to a being when it died. Kanan had specifically warned him against it. Death was a one-time experience for all creatures of the Living Force. Ezra should never seek to repeat it.

Cold crept through his veins as splinters of the bond punctured Ezra’s confidence. The last emotion that purrgil had felt was loneliness. It echoed through Ezra’s mind. He knew he was away from its flock, but believed he’d be able to catch up. That purrgil fought on because it had trusted Ezra.

Feeling that sense of trust fade away… It disappeared from Ezra as well. He’d used so much Force today. His confidence was draining, his adrenaline was draining, every thought in his head… broken on the bridge.

He landed on his back, hands raised… not in surrender to any person. The only thing Ezra surrendered to was his own limitation.

Ezra didn’t stir until he heard someone else move. Instinct took over before he could determine who it was. He used the last of his strength to shimmy into the corridor’s vent shaft. He collapsed on his stomach, feet barely concealed in the passageway. 

The air vent. It was an escape route Ezra had used numerous times. Only now could he barely breathe in it.

The shifting… it had to be Thrawn. Thrawn was waking up to a battle over. His last act before blacking out had been to fire at Ezra. Ezra had no reason to believe his first action awake would be different.

Now his instincts were at war. He should flee, but he’d wanted to die here. 

He needed to end everyone. Everyone was aboard a nonfunctional ship trapped in a field of asteroids headed for death. Their consciousnesses screamed louder than ship alarms. 

Real Jedi faced their enemies. Smart thieves lived to steal another day. 

Regardless of the path he chose, no one laid there frozen. Not like Ezra was doing. 

This was how he was going to die. Shot from below, cowering like a Lothkitten. Thrawn was going to take his only possible shot at revenge and end him in the most undignified way possible.

Thrawn stood, felt around the corridor for a weapon. He picked up a fallen death trooper’s blaster. He surveyed the hall, eyes no doubt landing on Ezra’s hiding spot. 

The alien admiral paused less than a meter behind Ezra, raised his blaster-

-and ran right past Ezra’s hiding place. 

What? But… why? Why was Ezra still alive? Why had he brought Thrawn in? Nothing made sense anymore.

Ezra wasn’t shot, but he did fall. Deep into an exhausted stupor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, glaring at my fic outline for the past several months: This isn't a fic outline. It's the plot of an Among Us game!
> 
> (Sighs) I am a victim of my own expectations. I know what I want to do with a fic like this, and it's a lot. I want every second to be poignant and emotional and resonant and yet somehow still fun and action packed. That's what the best media does, and I expect myself to accomplish it all on the first draft. Hence why getting any material published for this fic took so long.
> 
> Eventually, I just had to stop trying to write something beautiful and just write. Fic writing is meant to be fun for me. It's not the writing I do for my job or the editing where I tear other authors a new one because they dare not know how to use present tense narration consistently. If I accomplish my goals for this piece, that's great. If I fall short and have fun putting my increasingly-specific headcanons together, that's great too. If someone enjoys the work I post and takes this journey with me, that's the greatest thing of all. One of my favorite parts of fanfiction is the people I meet and interact with on the site.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stopped by. May I continue to keep my shit together as I pull future chapters out of the nebula and onto a page.


	2. Chapter 2

After twenty-two years of naval service, Hammerly had participated in her fair share of battles. She’d seen flawless victories, bitter defeats, and everything in between. After making it through the Clone Wars, she thought she’d be ready for anything the galaxy could throw at her.

What none of her prior experiences prepared her for was this level of absurdity. If Hammerly survived, she had no idea how she was going to explain this battle to anyone who wasn’t a direct witness of it. Where to begin?

At least the purrgil were gone. The  _ Chimaera’s _ cannons had killed the last creature tormenting their ship. They were still stuck in an asteroid field, but Hammerly didn’t have the tools to fix that at the moment. She had to conduct a headcount first. First rescue and count the people, then secure and repair the ship.

She wirelessly connected her commlink to the ship’s speakers and made a second announcement. “Commodore Hammerly to all crew: the last of the purrgil is dead. Fighters, return to the ship’s hangar.” Hammerly chose to believe some of the hangar crew had survived. And that the hangar was still accessible. She’d find out if she was right soon enough. “Cannons, remain at your stations so long as it is safe. All crew, report your status up the chain of command as soon as you are safe and in a secure area. Crew commanders, comm me with your survivor numbers. Once you have reported yourself in, do what you can to aid the wounded or trapped without endangering your own survival. 

“Focus on the living right now.” She held the comm away from her lips, exhaling long and slow before finishing her message. “We will assess casualties at a later point. Hammerly out.”

Once Hammerly ended the announcement, she booted up her datapad and retrieved the ship’s crew data. She copied and pasted the name of each distinct crew into a separate document, squinting around the cracked screen. Hammerly had clutched her devices close during the hyperspace jump only to drop the datapad in an asteroid collision. Her sole comfort was that no one saw the blunder.

No sooner had Hammerly typed “galley crew” into her log than she got a comm from Lieutenant Thorpe, second in command to the weapons crew. He reported the survival of less than half of his men. The fact that he was reporting to Hammerly instead of Lieutenant Pyrondi did not bode well for her survival.

Hammerly fought the urge to question Thorpe. She didn’t have time. Disconnecting with Thorpe meant moving on to the next call. The engine crew’s report was more dismal than weapons: two techs confirmed they were alive. 

“I did check for reports, ma’am. I did. But… I know the number won’t be high. I saw the creatures kill a lot of us.”

Numbers from Chief Fennix of supply were promising, at least. Aside from the pair who’d been crushed by falling crates during turbulence, everyone was accounted for. “But a lot of my men are wounded, you hear me? Are any of us permitted to visit the medbay?”

“Not at this time, Chief. Unless your men will die in the next few minutes from going unseen, tell them to stay where they are. If you are safe in supply, remain in supply. If falling equipment continues to be a concern, evacuate to the nearest safe area. Do what you can for the injured at your present location.” The supply rooms had excess medical equipment among their materials. They could do a fair job without braving a journey to the medbay.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The galley crew was in a similar shape to supply in that their casualties were a result of hyperspace turbulence and asteroid collisions more than direct purrgil assault. So far, the droid repair technicians held the sole distinction of all crew members reporting in. However, the reason they’d reported directly to Hammerly was because they couldn’t reach their intermediate superiors, so maybe that wasn’t worth celebrating. 

Hammerly leaned against the wall, one hand on her commlink and the other on her datapad. Numbers came in at an increasing pace, and many were followed by questions Hammerly was ill-equipped to answer. She knew she had to say something, however, so her mouth ran with the first answer to pop into her head.

First it was Commander Barron, leader of the fighter pilots. “Are we counting TIEs we last saw above Lothal as dead, ma’am?”

“We’re not counting deaths right now, Commander. I only want to know who is alive and with us  _ here _ . Lothal is not here.” 

Then it was Captain Holt of the stormtrooper forces. “Some men are reporting their crewmates as being unconscious and unstable. They will not live without immediate medical intervention. How should I count the heavily injured?”

“Alive. We can evaluate relative conditions at a later time. Can any of these wounded people be moved without causing more damage?”

“We’d need stretchers.”

“Comm Commander Nerric. He told me the medic crew is in fair shape. See if you can work out a pathway to the injured between yourselves.” Hammerly had been holed up in the same closet since hyperspace turned turbulent. She had no idea what the rest of the  _ Chimaera _ looked like. “Including those in unstable condition, how many survivors do you have?”

Holt had to do some calculating before arriving at a number. “1,501 reported. Major Carvia is nowhere to be found. I will update you if and when I receive better numbers. Captain Holt out.”

Hammerly struggled to keep up with reports, especially once the same crews started reporting updates to their previous counts. She attributed survivor numbers to the wrong crew more than once, only catching her mistake once she was midway through the next call. There were bound to be mistakes she hadn’t noticed.

Asteroid collisions persisted all throughout, sending a ripple of anxiety through Hammerly every time. She clutched her datapad so tightly that it almost broke in her hands.

After a particularly violent clash, Hammerly’s forehead collided with the closet door. She had to regain her balance before answering the next call. “Ugh… this is Hammerly.”

“Do you require assistance in accounting for survivors, Commodore?”

Hammerly froze. Her mouth popped open. That voice… mysterious, but with clarity. Instantly recognizable. A wave of relief washed over her. Her head throbbed less from the sound alone.

“Grand Admiral, sir? Is that you?”

“Yes. I am using the comm of Petty Officer Gryson, who will be needing it no longer. My apologies for the delay in reporting.”

“I’m… um, thrilled you made it, sir. Last I knew, you were on the upper bridge with the rebel Bridger and… purrgil.” Hammerly knew for a fact that several deathtroopers and stormtroopers had gone after Thrawn when the purrgil appeared. None had survived. Hammerly hadn’t had time to consciously think about it, but she’d spent the entire hyperspace journey preparing herself to direct the crew in Thrawn’s absence. She hadn’t even considered sending a rescue team. That decision may come back to bite her once the dust settled.

“I thank you. My question remains: do you require assistance in your task?”

Oh. “Yessir.”

“Where is your current location? I will send appropriate personnel to a meeting room near you.”

“I’m…” Well now she felt cowardly. “I hid in a closet on ARC-6. When the ride in hyperspace got volatile, I-”

“Understood, Commodore. I will send the individuals I have encountered to ARC-6. Meet them in the meeting room nearest the observation deck that is available for use. Understand that assistance may take longer to arrive than usual.”

“Yessir. Is there anything you need from me?”

“Continue your work. I will take no more of your time. We will regroup when survivors are fully accounted for.” Thrawn ended the call, never one for a formal goodbye.

Shaking, Hammerly opened the closet door. Inside, she’d been able to pretend the  _ Chimaera _ looked the way it always had. Once outside, she knew she’d have to face the mess.

It was horrible. Parts of the structural support beams in the corridor had shaken and toppled, replacing the corridor’s sleek hexagonal look with one of a jagged cave tunnel. Without the support of the beams, bits of the ceiling had crashed inward, with one piece crushing an overturned MSE droid. Hammerly bent down to check if the droid could still operate, but its internal drive had shattered into a dozen pieces. There was nothing for a tech to fix. Only scrap.

Hammerly walked gingerly around the rubble, one eye on the ceiling in case any more pieces fell. She took calls en route at first, but stopped after nearly tripping due to her divided attention. Had she fallen, Hammerly would have gained some nasty facial scars from the debris littering her path. She’d rather not clog up the medbay with the results of her own stupidity.

Every time her comm beeped, Hammerly forced herself to hurry faster to the meeting room. Any one of those calls could have lives on the line. Once she arrived, she lifted the table off its side, shoved it into a corner of the room, and sat underneath it. Should any more of the ceiling fall on her in a tremor, Hammerly’s head would be safe. 

_ It’s just like an earthquake. A never-ending earthquake. In space. _

_ This is fine. _

She took the first call waiting for her. It was the gunnery crew for the fourth time. Three more people had called in. Hammerly grew irritated with their constant updates, so she told the commander that “unless there is an emergency you don’t know how to handle or all of your remaining crew checks in, hold off on updating me until I ask you for numbers. I will start calling commanders once every crew has reported initial data.”

“There anything we can do?”

Hammerly peeked out from under the table. Ensign Vridina had worked for Hammerly as a communications officer. This was her third month in Imperial service. Slung over her shoulder was Commander Woldar balanced precariously on one leg. The other was a bleeding deformed mess.

“Woldar!” Hammerly rushed to his other side. Together, the two of them lowered Woldar onto the ground beneath the table. “What happened?”

“I was crushed under a patch of ceiling. I spent hyperspace under a table, but got up to join the fight when we came out.” Woldar shook his head. “Bad idea. The ceiling piece landed on my leg first, but then the whole piece flattened on my back. Thing must have been as heavy as I was. I would have been pressed to death if Thrawn hadn’t shoved it off me.”

“Thrawn saved you?”

“Yeah, that’s what he’s doing. He’s running around the whole ship saving everyone.”

“I was trying to help the Commander,” Ensign Vridina added, Wild Space accent thickening with stress. “The admiral… he’s stronger than most.”

“No kidding.” As if Hammerly needed to feel any worse about her post-battle priorities. Just as she thought that, her comm beeped again, reminding her of what she’d set out to do. “I will keep answering my comm. Ensign, you have yours?” Vridina held her commlink in the air as confirmation. “I will transfer you calls from the crews who have spoken to me already. Any non-headcount related questions are things I will handle. Woldar, your arms are okay?” He nodded. Hammerly handed her datapad to him. “When the ensign or myself get survivor numbers, we will tell you their crew and quantity. I need you to keep a running tally of who has how many survivors. When the headcount is over, sum the numbers.”

This was so much easier with help. The longer Hammerly stayed on the comm, the less outwardly panicked her callers were. People that had first been written off as dead were found to be merely unconscious, leading to an increase in numbers. When troopers and TIEs suited up for external retrieval missions, they managed to reel in four living people from space (and the purrgil corpse… for some reason). Once everyone had evacuated, Thrawn sealed the rooms where the airlock had been broken. Thrawn never commed Hammerly again during the headcount, but she still received updates on his progress around the ship. 

Pretty soon, Vridina was taking all the updates while Hammerly answered every sort of question. She was chief communications officer all over again. Add a couple angry governors and some confused shipping companies, and this could’ve been a typical day for Hammerly.

“We’ve sent everyone in critical condition to Nerric, ma’am. When do we send people with less serious injuries?”

Hammerly paused, glancing down at Woldar’s wrecked leg. She and Vridina had done their best to set it, but he needed medical help. “When Commander Nerric says his crew is ready. He will make the call for what injuries medics tend to at this time.”

“He isn’t answering his comm!”

“Then he’s busy with people who are on the verge of death.” Hammerly kept most of the frustration out of her voice, but not all of it. “The medic crew will announce when they’re ready for more patients. Do what you can with what you have for the rest.”

Groans. “Yes, ma’am.”

The  _ Chimaera _ ’s medic crew could do a lot, but it wasn’t meant to handle this much. Usually if a lot of people got injured in a battle, the ship could stabilize their condition before transfer to a real hospital. There was a running tally of reasons why Hammerly didn’t think that was happening this time around.

Once her that call ended, Hammerly called each crew for the last time. Finished, she turned to Woldar for a tally. “I don’t think we’re going to get more updates. What’s the current total?”

“One minute.” Woldar shifted in his spot between the women, wincing with every move. He brought each crew’s tally into a single column and waited for the datapad to sum the values. “13,666 people. That’s how many survivors we counted.”

“We’re cursed,” Vridina declared. “There is not a number in existence more cursed.”

Hammerly pursed her lips. Less than a third of the crew remained. “Did you count the three of us?”

“Vridina and I should have been counted earlier. Did you get yourself, Hammerly? Thrawn too?”

She facepalmed. “13,668 people, then.”

The worst part? That was their maximum. The medics weren’t going to save everyone. The return journey held the potential of even more death. The count only went down from here. 

Hammerly whipped out her comm for the billionth time that day. “Commodore Hammerly to Grand Admiral Thrawn. I have initial survivor numbers.”

“How many, Commodore?”

She told him, waiting to hear Thrawn react. If he felt any kind of way about her news, Hammerly didn’t pick up on it. “I see. Our path ahead will be difficult, but serviceable. How fares Commander Woldar?”

“Staying conscious, sir,” Woldar answered from his place at Hammerly’s left. “I’m not bleeding anymore.”

“Can you be moved again?”

“Not happily. I…” Woldar trailed off, shaking his head. “Yessir.”

“I acknowledge your hardship, Commander. I seek to address the crew soon. I want senior officers physically present with me when I do so. We shall plot our course ahead immediately following.”

“Understood, sir. I will travel with Commander Woldar to wherever you want to meet us.” Hammerly pursed her lips, already considering how she would get Woldar up from under the table. Moving the table may be an easier first step, given his condition.

“Join me in what remains of our main bridge. I will allow extra time for personnel to reach their requisite destinations.” Thrawn hung up without another word.

Hammerly wasted no time standing up herself. “Ensign, move this table to the other side of the room. We’ll work together to lift Woldar up.”

Vridina nodded. Once the two women had a clear path ahead, they bent down on either side of Woldar and brought him to his foot. He winced and groaned at their movements, but didn’t ask them to stop.

“I may have bruised my back earlier too. That’s all.” Woldar kept his teeth ground together, making it hard for him to speak. “I look worse than I feel.”

Hammerly ignored his justifications. “Lean on me, Commander. Ensign Vridina isn’t coming with us. Do you know where to go, Ensign?”

Vridina nodded. “I’ll join the rest of my crew.”

“Good. You are dismissed, Ensign.”

Vridina saluted, turned her back, and left the room first. Conscious of Woldar’s weight on her shoulders, Hammerly guided the pair of them out of ARC-6. Her path back to the bridge had never been more fraught with complications.

By the time the pair reached the bridge, Hammerly was no longer shocked by the magnitude of destruction. She’d wanted to stop for every dead body that littered the halls, but her own orders said to deal with them another time. The growing stench of death filled the air, mingling with the scent of failure. Hammerly coughed, ignoring Woldar’s constant stare. Every time she caught his eye, it was as though he were right about to say something but never spoke.

The worst sight was the one that waited for them on the bridge itself. Right by the door, beneath a broken weapons array… there lay Lieutenant Pyrondi amidst a pool of red metal. Hammerly nearly dropped Woldar on sight. She used her free hand to cover her mouth.

Kana Pyrondi… it had been days since the two last played cards in the officer’s mess. A week since they drank in the cantina with Woldar. They’d seen the previous commodore off to her new assignment together. They took turns embracing Faro in private. Kana had been the social butterfly of the bridge crew, hosting all sorts of game nights and parties. A room where she smiled glowed with a beam of brightness.

The room where she died dimmed with a shadow of gloom.

The last time Hammerly had seen Pyrondi was earlier today. They’d stood on the bridge together above Lothal. Hammerly fled the bridge when she thought purrgil intended to crash through the viewport.

How far had Pyrondi been behind her? When had the array fallen over? Why hadn’t anyone noticed a man down? If Hammerly had missed her chance to save a friend, she…

...She would understand it was a part of the chaos of battle for some opportunities to go untaken. Hammerly could do nothing for Pyrondi now. She had to focus her energy on the crew members that lived on. 

Bowing her head to the fallen lieutenant, Hammerly approached Thrawn at the far end of the room. He blinked as she came closer, expression inscrutable as always. 

“I will address the collection of bodies from around the ship in due time, Commodore. As you said, matters of the living must be addressed first.” He turned back to the nav computer, fiddling with its buttons. 

Hammerly helped Woldar into a seat. She watched as Thrawn struggled to gain power over the device. Even once he did, it was hopeless: the computer knew as much as they did about their current location.

Thrawn turned the computer back off before anyone else saw the readout. When the last officer arrived, he cleared his throat. “I will not keep you long. All of you bear missions of the highest priority. Your presence and attention to your men does not go unnoticed. We will heal our survivors, repair our ship, and return to the Empire in due time.”

No one responded with words. Some nodded with their eyes down. Lieutenant Xoxtin was the most daring of the bunch for releasing an exhausted sigh.

Hammerly kept her eyes on Thrawn. He likely hadn’t expected a response. With her help, Thrawn broadcast his next message to the entire ship. 

“This is Grand Admiral Thrawn to all crew. The situation we face has changed drastically since we arrived above Lothal. When the  _ Chimaera _ returned to Lothal, our urgency held a sense of containment. Over the past year, our ship has grown familiar with the schemes of the rebels who occupy that planet. Despite our seriousness, we thought of our job as a routine affair. I think our prior victory, spectacular in its bloodlessness, lent itself to that disposition.

“Bloodlessness is not the situation that arose from our confrontation. The rebels on Lothal have, by now, forcibly installed a terrorist regime on the planet. When we left, the rightful government of Lothal served as their hostages. I see no alternative to their mass slaughter. The leader of the insurgency was one Commander Bridger, who joined us on this ship under the pretense of surrender. While aboard this ship and above Lothal, he did not end the rebel assault. He did not spare the civilian bureaucrats trapped by hostile forces. Instead, Commander Bridger summoned a horde of purrgil, whom he directed through the Force to end the Seventh Fleet. It is by his design that we stand here shaken and under assault.

“We face defeat. I acknowledge the loss of many in our crew. Our return to the Empire will require us to overcome many trials. Now is not an appropriate time for me to cast any illusions regarding the gravity of our situation.

“My only reminder to you is thus: we may have lost, but Bridger has not won. Not yet. He will only achieve complete victory when every last one of our crew has been eliminated. That is what he set out to accomplish when he summoned the purrgil hordes. By fighting back instantly upon exiting hyperspace, by rescuing your fellow Imperials from the imminent fate of death, you have beat back against our enemy. By ending the life of our last non sentient attacker, you have secured us both a feast and a reminder: survival for us is defeat for Bridger.

“From now on, survival is our primary priority. Only by preserving the lives of ourselves and our fellow men will we succeed on the path ahead of us.” Thrawn closed his eyes. “The Empire is vast. They will handle the tasks we have been forced to set aside. When we retake our place in the Imperial fleet, we will resume our regular duties. Until then, our mission ahead is to stay alive and repair what Bridger has broken. It shall take time for us to return to our unfinished business. When we do, I ask you to have no fear of consequences. Everything that has fallen short in this battle will be my responsibility to bear.”

Thrawn’s eyes popped open, glowing brighter than before. “With the ship’s commanders, I shall plot the path ahead for us. While you wait, I ask that you show regard for one another. Our battle has inflicted injury on many, not all of which are visible. Rest where you can. Stay vigilant where you must.”

Silence reigned as Thrawn ended his announcement. For a brief eternity, not one officer dared speak. 

Then came the question of Commander Barron. “We’re eating purrgil, sir? That’s why you asked my men to retrieve the corpse?”

“And another crew to cut and preserve its meat, yes. That creature attacked our ship with the intent of killing our soldiers and consuming our fuel. It is appropriate that we make the same use of it.” Thrawn glanced at Barron’s bewildered face. “Purrgil meat is edible to humans. There exists a roving tribe in the Hydian Way which hunts them once a year. With larger beasts, the meat can last a tribe months. ”

“I agree with eating the enemy’s corpse over… other ideas, sir.” Barron gulped. “Are we short on our other food, though?”

“Not to my knowledge, Commander.” Chief Fennix joined the discussion. “I have men securing the supply rooms against fall risks from asteroid collisions. We will take stock of usable items once all crates are locked in place.”

Right as Fennix mentioned the asteroids, the ship shook from another impact. Hammerly’s insides quivered long after the tremor subsided. “We need to get out of this asteroid field. What’s the point of repairing the ship if those rocks keep breaking it?”

“How are we supposed to get out? I don’t know how we got in!” Woldar tried and failed to lean forward in his chair. “Last I heard, the  _ Chimaera’s _ engine is a wreck. The crew responsible for the engine has taken the most damage out of any of us.”

Thrawn exhaled, the soft sound catching everyone’s attention. “We will not be able to exit the asteroid field immediately. Remaining inside it is a mixed blessing for the time being. We remain under assault from asteroids while being protected from external attackers. As Commander Woldar has observed, our position is a perplexing one to obtain. It will be difficult to escape, but enemy creatures or ships approaching us will also be unlikely. Until we repair our ship’s engine, the  _ Chimaera _ is immobile. While not entirely defenseless, we are far from battle ready.”

“Would shielding not be a viable protection against asteroids, sir?”

“If we had the power for them, perhaps. I suspect the assault on our engine has cost us a great deal of fuel. There lies another inventory of which we must take stock. If we use our shields, it will be temporary to allow for certain external repairs.”

Xoxtin pondered the situation. “Purrgil eat hyperspace fuel, correct? We have a dead purrgil on board. Would it be possible to extract our stolen fuel from the creature?”

Thrawn blinked. “I am curious to know as well, Lieutenant. Dissection of the creature’s carcass is underway as we speak. They have the equipment necessary to contain hyperspace fuel, should the possibility arise.”

The next half hour was dominated by discussions of fuel preservation. Once a thorough inventory had been taken, certain activities and rooms would go without use. Only duties deemed immediately necessary to survival were approved to use electricity. Anyone caught violating orders would be deemed an endangerment to collective survival and handled accordingly. Soon after, the same policy was applied to food, water, and heat consumption.

“It is clear that inventory shall be our next step. Commodore Hammerly has already carried out the most vital inventory of all; she has records of how the Chimaera’s survivors are distributed amongst crews. Some individuals will have to be reassigned for the coming mission.” Thrawn nodded to Hammerly, inviting her to speak on the situation.

Hammerly cleared her throat. “Exact figures will need to be confirmed, but the current total of battle survivors is 13,668. We lost approximately seventy percent of our crew to purrgil attack, falling debris, airlock failures, and more.”

Thrawn twitched his lips, a look of pensiveness taking shape. “For the number of Imperial soldiers alive on the Chimaera, I believe that general figure is correct. For the number of sentient survivors more broadly, I would increase the value by one. There are 13,669 sentient beings alive on the ship.”

Every officer froze in place at the news. Their eyes said they knew what was going on, but none of their mouths wanted to say it.

Hammerly was the first to gain courage. “What do you mean, sir?”

“Exactly what I said. When the commodore and I first spoke after the battle, she marveled that I managed to survive the assault on the upper bridge. While the exact events that led to my survival remain unclear, they should imply to you one thing; if I remain among the crew, I am not the only one.”

Woldar paled. “Are you sure, sir?”

Thrawn nodded. “When I returned to consciousness, I saw the feet of a rebel scurry down a ventilation shaft. I stood with a trooper’s blaster in my hand, prepared to make him pay for the damage he’s caused.”

Captain Holt caught himself between a cough and a sigh. “...Why didn’t you?”

“Right as I was about to shoot down into the shaft, I heard a cry for help from a stone heap down the corridor.” He blinked, the weight of the world on his lids. “I will have another chance to punish Bridger. I had only one chance to preserve the life of Shipmen Russo. After Shipmen Russo, I answered the call of Ensign Kydo. After him, Trooper Valencia. After her, Commander Woldar. So on and so forth.

“I had a choice at that moment. I could indulge my rage and aid Bridger in his plot to kill everyone aboard the ship, or I could center my focus on foiling him and thwart his greater objective. Now I must warn you all; Bridger is as exhausted as the rest of us now, but he will not stay exhausted forever.”

“Why didn’t you tell the whole ship?”

“Had I told the rest of the ship, they would have put more energy into finding Bridger than into the tasks I have set for them. The death of that rebel means little to me if his victory is ultimately assured. I tell the group of you because I want you to stay on your guard. I have no reason to believe Bridger will abandon his goal now. Captain Holt, I will assign some of your troopers to the task of handling the rebel. It must be approached obliquely and with great care. Of your survivors, I will need assistance in determining who is best for that job.”

Pricks of foreboding stuck to the back of Hammerly’s neck. She turned around, half expecting to see the rebel Jedi drop in on them.

He wasn’t there. But he would be. The man who’d wrecked their ship. The man who’d killed hundreds of thousands in a single day. The man who’d doomed his planet to a lifetime of anarchy. He was waiting for them.

“I ask everyone here to remain vigilant. There is one enemy among us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had that last line of dialogue buried earlier in the chapter, but the Among Us parallels were too good to resist. The rest of the fic is so dark right now. I need to have fun where I can.
> 
> Contrasting Ezra's rebel perspective this chapter is Hammerly's Imperial perspective. Here, I got to write about Imperial characters in a situation we don't often see them in: recovering together and rescuing one another. Having seventy percent of your crew wiped out in a single blow is a hard hit to take. The original draft of this chapter was far more descriptive of the death scenarios (Pyrondi's in particular), but I cut those out because I want to maintain my T-rating. I think lingering on gore would push my fic into Mature territory. It's a hard line to walk given the subject matter, and one I may change my mind about down the line.
> 
> Anyway, the sides have been defined. For the first part of this fic, at least, the stakes are set. I know what happens next in a general sense, but I need to work out a logical progression and order of events. That may take a bit of time.
> 
> In the meantime, thank you for all of the support you all have shown me with this fic. It means a lot. While you're waiting on me, check out draculard's post-Rebels fic: Signal Lost//Contact Regained. His work inspires me a lot, and I reference several fics of his in minor ways.


End file.
